is coming on strong. Unbelievable! Never in my adult life, have I experienced heat so "airless"---it seems to sap the energy out of you the moment you leave the apartment house. Well, one more day of that---and as the weather becomes more "liveable" (I hope) the doctor's appointments commence. One tomorrow morning and one on Friday. Have they determined the results of my biopsoy yet? They should have by now and yet no word. What does that mean...? No news is good news, or do they want to "break it to me gently"? I am not in any hurry; I simply want to live through this day. Feeling quite good and solid though, so we will see how that plays into the larger .
Going for my morning bagel, I passed a large group of west side parents and children standing on a nearby corner. It occured to me that they were waiting for a bus, that would take their children to camp---probably day camp---it did not seem like the goodbyes were very heavy. It made me think of my years in camp--all sleep away-- many summers in my childhood---but were they summers that I really wanted to spend in that way?
My camp history...I must have heard about sleep away camp some time during first grade, because I told my parents that I wanted to go. My parents were okay with it---don't remember that much of that summer---I was basically happy for the eight weeks--parents came to visit twice---the son of the girls head counselor, who must have been five, bopped me over the head with a toy gun during a pageant on parents day---but i think that I made up my mind that I did not want to go ever again. So, ofcourse, for the next six years, I found myself in sleep away camps for the whole summer. Why? My parents---who were so comfortable with me being away for eight weeks, decided that they themselves wanted to work as counselors at camps during the summer. So there it was. My father was the camp dramatic counselor, and my mother, who taught science, during the year, was the nature counselor. Two camps in five years---and then another sleep away without them for me, until the streak was broken. Was that what I wanted? I dreamed of being allowed to stay in the Bronx all summer, each day looking at the television, watching either the Yankee or Giant games being broadcast. No structure, no tasks. But it never happened. My parents---who really gave me so much as a child---took me to plays and movies all the time to build up my imagination---insisted that we go. But was it really for them? What part of them could not spend the summer in the city..? "We think it is best for you (and my brother)". that was the mantra each year, as I would make a brief protest before we left. And to a certain extent it was---organized sports, lots of swimming---some good friendships, but what was in it for them...? I wonder.
So the basic conflict between my parents and myself was basically set up by their committment. My imagination could rome free with their approval---until it couldn't. Once they made up their mind, the line was crossed---and whatever I felt---whatever I dreamed about or envisioned---meant nothing. The break--the cut---call it what you like---but once they made up their mind, my autonomy was ended. And yet (as I will end this post) I had a "happy" childhood.
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